


Surrogate God

by PepperPrints



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: When Harrison Wells returns to Earth-2, someone is waiting for him. Reverb survived Zoom, but with the cost of losing his abilities. Convinced that Harry can return his powers to him, Reverb holds him captive, and he's asking for more than Harry can deliver.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Harry goes back to Earth-2 alone in 3x14.
> 
> Naturally, this has Harry/Cisco overtones, but Reverb is the focus. There's also mentions Eobard, as in his relationship with Cisco, and Reverb's feelings towards that more explicitly. Neither are things I'm tagging for on AO3, since I assume people go into those tags looking for actual content. 
> 
> The only warnings are that Reverb assaults Harry a bit, in vibration-wave-blast ways. It's not written very explicitly and it's very canon-typical.

Disorientation greets Harry when he stirs. Immediately, he’s aware of soreness in his limbs, which is likely courtesy of the hard surface he’s sprawled against. Blinking, Harry squints against a sterile room, and he winces as his vision blurs. 

 

Where is he? The last thing he remembers is… what, exactly?

 

“Oh, you’re awake.”

 

Lifting his head rewards him with the room spinning, and Harry cringes briefly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waits a second, then tries again. With much steadier vision, he looks up, and the sight that greets him doesn’t quite connect.

 

“Ramon?” he asks, finding his voice scratchy. 

 

The reply is a humorless scoff, and Harry all at once realizes how wrong he is.

 

“Yes,” the man in front of him answers, “but at the same time: no.”

 

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Harry narrows his eyes. Once his vision clears, it becomes painfully obvious. The idea of mistaking him for Cisco seems almost laughable, in retrospect. His whole posture is different: how he holds himself, how he smiles, and the slick style to his hair. 

 

“Reverb,” Harry corrects quietly.

 

“Give the man a prize,” Reverb declares dryly, spreading his hands and smiling without any warmth. “Maybe you really are a genius.”

 

Harry stares at him, wisely remaining where he is on the hard surface of the floor. “You’re supposed to be dead,” Harry tells him lowly, and Reverb’s cold smile spreads up his cheeks.

 

With slow, purposeful strides, Reverb approaches him. Closing the gap between them, Reverb kneels, making himself more level with Harry. “No, not dead,” Reverb clarifies, “but maimed.” 

 

Narrowing his eyes, Harry looks him over. All things considered, he’s seems to be unhurt. He moves easily enough, no limp in his strides or any strain shows on his face. So what exactly is he implying? He clearly doesn’t need to ask, since Reverb is already explaining himself.

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t know about that little trick of Zoom’s?” he asks loftily. “Do you think I’d never seen it before? That I hadn’t prepared for the inevitable? Do you think a little vibration could kill me -- when I’m in tune with every wave of our ever expanding universe?” 

 

Harry doesn’t speak right away. The questions are clearly more rhetorical than genuine. Answering isn’t the intent here; it’s the implication that matters. 

 

“But you lost something,” Harry concludes slowly. 

 

“My vision,” Reverb supplies, and given how he’s looking straight at Harry, he can easily guess he doesn’t literally mean his eyes. “Something happened; now I can’t… vibe, as you and my counterpart called it.” Reverb speaks the word with a false sweetness, as if he’s humoring Harry by speaking in terms he understands. “You’re going to help me fix that.”

 

Despite himself, Harry scoffs. Wetting his lips, Harry looks Reverb skeptically up and down. It takes a moment, but once the realization of what Reverb is asking for connect, Harry’s eyes widen. 

 

He thinks Harry can give him his powers back?

 

“I don’t know how to do that,” he tells him bluntly. 

 

Which is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Reverb barely even extends his hand, and Harry doubles over with a choked cry. Pain shoots through him at once, right in his chest and spreading. Something inside of him feels like it’s twisting up, sudden and sharp, and Harry chokes, very close to throwing up. 

 

“My precognition is gone, but my vibration control isn’t,” Reverb informs him coldly. “I’m not asking; deny me again and I’ll shatter every bone in your body.” 

 

Reverb lowers his hand and the assault ceases, leaving Harry gasping for air. He coughs, choking on his own shuddering exhales, and Reverb smirks cruelly down at him. 

 

“Do we understand each other?”

 

\--

 

Harry barely has time to regain his breath before he’s put to work. This place, dark and dusty as it may be, is well supplied. He has everything that Harry could need -- which is actually frustrating, since he can’t send Reverb away on some errand to fetch tools, just to give himself some window to attempt an escape.

 

He could lie just to get him away, he supposes, but Reverb seems very keen on torturing him in response to disobedience. Harry can’t lead with that; he has to make an effort with what’s presented with him before he starts trying to deceive him. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing as he fiddles with Reverb’s goggles. He’s fussing with the settings, and adjusting the intensity… anything he can think of.

 

“This lab should prove useful to you; it once belonged to Martin Stein,” Reverb remarks, as if he can sense what’s on Harry’s mind. “Before he merged with Deathstorm.” His fingertips trail thoughtfully over the edge of a table, and he peers at the dirt he collects. “That was quite awhile ago.”

 

Harry peers up at him from his seat, pausing in his work on the goggles. It’s strange, seeing Reverb move. He looks exactly like Cisco -- of course he does -- but his mannerisms are all off. Smugness carries in his movements, even in something so small as him rubbing his fingers together to clear them of dust, and his smiles never feel sincere. 

 

He’s exactly like Cisco, and nothing like him at the same time.

 

“I wouldn’t call that a merger; more like swallowing him whole,” he retorts coldly, fiddling with the screwdriver between his fingers. Reverb chuckles slightly, pacing around the lab leisurely; like how a big cat walks from one edge of its cage to the other.

 

“Do you even miss them?” Harry asks abruptly, narrowing his eyes at him. “Deathstorm? Frost?” 

 

It’s a stupid course of action to take. Harry knows better; the Cisco he knows isn’t secretly buried under Reverb’s smug countenance. Still, somehow, the impulse to appeal to that other person is there. It’s almost instinctive, and Harry can’t help himself.

 

“Please,” Reverb scoffs, crinkling his nose as if the words themselves send a foul stench in the air. “They served a purpose; that’s all. Much like yourself.”

 

Reverb approaches him again, smiling in that thin, sly way. “I’m afraid you may have some misconceptions… whatever affections my doppelganger feels are his, and his alone. My companions were always expendable, if they defied me. The same goes for you.” Reverb smiles cruelly, needlessly adjusting the collar of Harry’s jacket. “Harry.” 

 

The way he says the name is sickly sweet; a mockery of fond familiarity. 

 

“Don’t touch me,” Harry says, voice low and sharp, and Reverb raises his eyebrows, as if impressed.

 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” he taunts, deliberately keeping his hand exactly where it is. “Considering how… close you were, with Cisco?”

 

He says Cisco’s name like it’s a joke, like he’s humoring something far beneath him. Harry’s brow furrows at the implication, and if Reverb intends to use that against him, Harry has to crush the idea immediately.

 

“Your visions can’t be very accurate if you think we’re close,” Harry retorts. It should be easy enough to believe; Harry has always been prickly with Cisco -- with all of them -- from the first moment he arrived. Very deliberately so. He hadn’t known what would be asked of him to save Jesse’s life, and the idea of being invested in those people seemed like too much risk.

 

Now, Jesse is with all of them -- and Harry is alone with Reverb.

 

“Mmh,” intones Reverb thoughtfully. “No, I suppose not. The two of you bicker quite a bit.” Which is almost enough to appease Harry’s concern, but Reverb already has a counter planned on the tip of his tongue. “He was closer with the other one, wasn’t he? Your doppelganger?”

 

At first, the sound of it settles coldly in Harry’s chest, then it quickly turns into a hot and simmering fury.

 

“I quite liked what I saw of him too,” Reverb continues smilingly.

 

“He wasn’t my doppelganger,” Harry corrects coldly. “He wasn’t Harrison Wells.” 

 

“No,” allows Reverb with a dramatic sigh. “He was something better, wasn’t he?” 

 

Harry is very still, his pulse thudding in his ears. The very mention of Eobard Thawne brings sourness up his throat. He’s chastised all the others of this very thing, but he’s guilty of it all the same: being so invested in the fate of their own doppelganger. Harry never met his Earth-1 counterpart face-to-face. The real Harrison Wells was long since dead, and Tess Morgan was gone with him -- and Jesse too; she was barely even a thought, and then she was snuffed out. 

 

The very notion makes Harry feel sick.

 

Smirking about him, Reverb cocks his head. “I guess we both have to make do with the runner up.”

 

Hand tightening on the screwdriver, Harry tightens his jaw. “He killed you,” Harry reminds sharply. “He killed Cisco. Did you vibe that?” 

 

Something tells Harry that he did, but Reverb hardly seems bothered by it. Rolling his eyes, Reverb sighs again. “I always felt disappointed in Cisco… and that’s exactly why. Do you know what an incredible opportunity was right in front of him, and he scorned it? While I was here, on this Earth, surrounded by  _ idiots _ , he had the perfect partner at his side and didn’t even realize. If his vision had been just a little wider… he would have realized just how much he could have accomplished with Harrison Wells.”

 

“Eobard Thawne,” Harry corrects quietly.

 

Reverb stares at him. He looks as if he’s searching for something on Harry’s face, looking for some kind of tell. Whether he finds it or not, Harry isn’t sure. “Right,” Reverb says coyly. “Eobard Thawne.” 

 

Holding his gaze for just a moment longer before he lets it break, Reverb chuckles. “Back to work,” he commands.

 

\--

 

Reverb leaves him alone, on and off, but not entirely. He’s always in the building, and even outdated as it may be, the security system surely still works. Frustration curls in Harry’s gut, and he rubs his eyes beneath his glasses. 

 

Reverb shouldn’t have lost his powers. A brush with death can’t cancel out his abilities. The same thing happened with Barry and Zoom, but he just needed time to heal… The particle accelerator changed meta-humans down to their DNA; it can’t simply disappear. Harry just needs to jumpstart it, for lack of a better word.

 

In theory.

 

Otherwise, he’s going to be a dead man. 

 

The other option is another difficulty Cisco faced: that it’s psychological. That something mental is holding Reverb back. However, the idea of psychoanalyzing a supervillain with a God complex seems ill advised.

 

Again, making him a dead man.

 

So, his options are rather limited.

 

Reverb took everything off of Harry when he captured him. His phone is gone, along with any hopes of contacting anyone on Earth-1. If Reverb is as clever as he thinks, Harry’s sure he could send a message to Jesse easily enough. Harry’s texts aren’t hard to imitate; he uses proper grammar and punctuation like any self-respecting adult.

 

All he’d have to do is send a simple statement: that Harry’s busy, and he’s going to be cooped up with new projects for the police, in the absence of their resident speedster. Harry is reclusive enough that no one would think twice.

 

He should have never let her go. 

 

Sighing, Harry peers up at the cameras, taking note of the way they turn towards him. 

 

How crippling does that feel for Reverb? To be reduced to using technology to watch over his prisoner? He considered himself a God, according to Cisco, and now he’s been robbed of his abilities. Pity seems unfitting; Harry doesn’t know the depths of Reverb’s crimes. Considering how he worked with Zoom, he can’t have been wholly innocent -- still.

 

Still.

 

Harry has to wonder. What significant event was it, to divorce Cisco so much from Reverb? Cisco’s fear is that it’s their powers alone; that the very existence of his abilities will make him power-hungry and depraved. Harry knows better; they all know better. Yet, the thought remains. 

 

What happened to Reverb?

 

Whatever it is, there’s a simple fact that remains: now he’s entirely alone.

 

\--

 

When he finally presents Reverb with the goggles, he isn’t sure what he anticipates. Honestly, Harry is ready to have himself -- what word did Reverb use? Shattered? He watches Reverb raise them to his face, sees the light flare up, and he waits. 

 

All Reverb does, however, is lower the goggle back down again, and give Harry a disappointed look. “Nothing is happening,” he informs him bluntly.

 

Chewing the inside of his lip, Harry holds his ground. He says nothing, and Reverb takes a step closer to him. “I thought you were a genius,” he says quietly. “The smartest man alive.”

 

“I told you that I didn’t know how to do it,” Harry reminds quietly, crossing his arms. “I can work with the settings again, but I can’t guarantee it’ll help.”

 

“You helped Cisco,” Reverb reminds coldly.

 

The reply takes a moment. Harry pauses, blinking, then his voice is more scolding than it should be, if he’s trying to advocate for his life. “I helped him navigate his powers; not create them,” Harry replies quickly.

 

“You gave me these powers,” Reverb counters, stepping even closer. “You gave all of the meta-humans powers.”

 

“The accelerator did!” Harry argues sharply. “I can’t just replicate that!” 

 

“You told Cisco differently,” Reverb continues, as if he hadn’t heard Harry at all. “You told him you gave him this gift. That he owed you. Now you owe me.” 

 

For a moment, Harry is too stunned to reply. He takes a moment to piece it together, and his stomach feels sick. “That was Thawne,” he tells him. “I’m not Thawne!” 

 

Which is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Reverb lashes out, and Harry’s back hits the nearest wall. Too winded to even cry out, Harry cringes as pain thuds through his spine. 

 

“Are you really that useless?” Reverb accuses lowly. His voice is losing its low, steady cadence, and getting faster, harsher. “You. Frost. Deathstorm. Zoom. All of you -- useless! And now… now…”

 

Reverb starts to laugh. It’s a low, dangerous thing, like the sound of him coming unhinged.

 

“Now, I can’t even see,” he hisses lowly. “And Cisco, who doesn’t even know what he’s capable of, has everything…!” 

 

When Harry tries to rise, Reverb shoves him down again. The vibration courses through him, and it feels like knives grinding down his ribs. He chokes on his next breath, falling back again and knowing wisely to stay there. While the assault ends when Harry stops resisting, Reverb’s rant continues.

 

“He has my powers, and he won’t even use them! He casts everything aside!” he snaps. His hands are on Harry now, framing his face roughly. “Do you know what I would give to have my powers back? Do you know what I would have given to have Eobard Thawne instead of you and every other useless person like you?” 

 

Harry can’t reply -- he knows better than to speak. He just looks up at Reverb, and a realization settles in. Seeing at him here, now, for the first time… he actually looks like Cisco. 

 

“I would have helped him,” he continues desperately, as if the pleas, the offers, will spark something, and wake Thawne up where he lurks under Harry’s skin. “I would have shown him the future! We would have ruled it! We would have been Gods -- Apollo and Hermes; the oracle and the messenger.” 

 

Short of breath, Reverb seems to be shattering above him. His whole expression raw, as if he’s been hollowed out, and his blunt nails press into Harry’s skin. One hand grips harshly at Harry’s hair, and the other grabs his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks.

 

“Instead, I have nothing,” Reverb hisses, his voice wavering. “Nothing at all.” 

 

Harry can only stare up at him. Reverb is crumbling, looking more and more like Cisco every second. His hair is coming free, hanging in front of his face, and his eyes are wide and desperate. He’s seen Cisco like this, when he first began to confront his powers, when he was so afraid of becoming the same as Reverb.

 

He shoves at Harry, tightening his hold, and his demands raise.

 

“Is he in there?” he accuses sharply, shouting right into Harry’s face. “Is he?” 

 

How comforting is the idea of Thawne to Reverb? Reverb with his megalomania, and his aspirations to be a God… but at the end of it all, even with all that power, he was still alone. Frost and Deathstorm were content with petty crimes, and Zoom was self absorbed. Reverb didn’t have a single companion among them. Did he see Cisco on Earth-1, so close to Thawne, and think Harry could give him the same opportunity that Cisco turned away? 

 

How long has he been waiting for Harry to show himself? How long has he been waiting, only to be disappointed in every possible way?

 

“No,” Harry says, even though it might mean sealing his own fate. “He isn’t.”

 

Reverb looks as if he’s been slapped across his face. Shock and fury mingle together, and Harry has to speak before he’s the victim of it. “But you’re Cisco Ramon,” he counters breathlessly, tone rasping from his exertion. “Cisco is in there.” 

 

The assertion widens Reverb’s eyes, and then he grits his teeth. “How dare you,” Reverb says, lowly and dangerously, but Harry keeps speaking. 

 

“That’s who you are,” he insists harshly. “He’s made something of himself. He’s overcome everything. He survived you. He survived Thawne.”

 

“Stop it,” hisses Reverb coldly. “Stop talking about Cisco.”

 

“Why?” asks Harry goadingly. “Does it upset you that you can’t be like him?”

 

“I’m better than him!” Reverb shouts desperately, shaking hands gripping Harry tighter. “I…”

 

As if he’s suddenly aware of himself, Reverb goes very still. His eyes widen, and he releases his hold on Harry. With a much steadier grip, he brushes his stray hairs back behind his ears, and straightens his jacket with a few sharp tugs. He scoffs, as if he’s trying to dispel his entire breakdown with sudden disinterest. It doesn’t work; there’s still tension in his brow and his jaw is too tight. 

 

If he wants to act as if this didn’t happen, then it’s his mistake; Harry won’t let that happen. 

 

“You want this city to be yours,” he continues quickly. “It can be yours. These people can worship you. Do you know how? The same way they worship the Flash.” 

 

Reverb stares at him for a moment, blinking, and then he laughs, but the sound of it is empty and cold. “Are you really going for that old routine?” he mocks. “Are you offering me the chance to be loved instead of feared?” 

 

“That’s Cisco’s destiny,” Harry points out. “That’s what Thawne told him.” 

 

It’s so easily turned around, once Harry has his hooks into it. Reverb almost recoils, and his expression tightens. “A great and honorable destiny,” recalls Harry, and even as he says it, the words ache in his chest. “It can be yours too.”

 

Reverb rounds on him, and Harry braces for it. Instead of that same agony grinding down on his bones, nothing comes. Reverb looms over him, his eyes narrow and his tone harsh.

 

“Get out.” 

 

Blinking, Harry can’t help his kneejerk reply. “What?”

 

“Get out,” Reverb repeats coldly. “You’re useless to me. Stop wasting my time and get out of my sight.” 

 

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

\--

 

Harry doesn’t even think about retrieving his phone. Luckily, he isn’t lacking any funds to replace it. He contacts Earth-1, checks in, and debates whether or not to tell them about his little encounter with Reverb. It feels deceptive to lie, but at the same time… telling Jesse about a villain here in Central City would just inspire her to race back as quickly as possible. She’s happy on Earth-1; Harry doesn’t need her doubting that he can take care of himself.

 

For the most part, anyway. 

 

The phone at his desk rings, and Harry answers it gruffly. “What?”

 

“Pardon me, Dr. Wells,” a secretary replies. “But your twelve o’clock appointment is here.”

 

Eyes narrowing, Harry makes an expression that luckily can’t be seen. How much money does he pay these people, but he can’t find good help? “I don’t have any appointments today,” he replies dully. 

 

“I beg your pardon, Dr. Wells, but you do.”

 

Oh, of all the stupid… Harry very patiently breaths in, and out, and picks up his phone. He fully intends to take a screenshot of his very empty schedule and show it to her, because apparently everyone has trouble with their eyesight in this building. He opens it, and… 

 

There’s an appointment, right at twelve o’clock, that he most definitely did not put there. 

 

Not on this phone, anyway. 

 

“Send him up,” Harry says carefully, making very sure to have security ready on speed dial and his pulse rifle very clearly on display.

 

The man who enters doesn’t look like Reverb, but he doesn’t quite look like Cisco either. He’s dressed very sharply, his hair pulled back into one low sitting ponytail, and he’s thankfully ditched the makeup. It’s an improvement, in Harry’s opinion. 

 

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wells,” he greets coyly, and he makes a tsking sound at the sight of the rifle. “Is that really necessary?”

 

“You tell me,” Harry replies flatly. 

 

Raising a brow, Reverb smirks. “Do you start all your interviews at gunpoint?” 

 

“Interview?” Harry repeats suspiciously, and Reverb punctuates the comment by dropping a neat manila folder on Harry’s desk. Harry just stares at it, as if it’s something foreign, until he finds his voice again. “You hacked my phone just to give yourself a job interview?”

 

That gets Reverb’s eyes rolling. “You really are an old man.” He reaches into his pocket, which immediately puts Harry on the defensive, but all he retrieves is Harry’s old, familiar phone. “Guessing a four digit pin code is not the same as hacking,” he sighs, shaking his head somewhat. “Especially when it’s the birthdate of your only child.” 

 

Point taken.

 

“What is it you want?” Harry asks cautiously. 

 

“I have a proposition,” Reverb begins, glancing down at the folder, then up at Harry. “Are you going to look at that?”

 

“No,” he answers immediately. 

 

Harry can’t imagine what it says. _ Employment history: unrepentant villainy. Supervisor: Zoom. Note: you may not contact this employer for references due to their being very much deceased.  _

 

Sighing, Reverb takes a seat without being invited. “Your daughter left this Earth. I saw your texts.” He lifts the phone in demonstration. “This leaves Central City without a meta-human line of defense. You realize how troublesome this is?” 

 

Harry doesn’t answer, letting Reverb go on. “Any big up-and-comer who sees this as an opportunity would be a very unpleasant obstacle for me down the line,” Reverb explains. “I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about this being their city.”

 

Leaning back in the chair, Reverb crosses one leg over the other. “I have the physical power to deal with these threats, but I don’t have my vision,” he continues. “You, however, have the means to survey the entirety of the city. In simple terms: you could be my eyes as I stop potential threats from taking a throne that’s rightfully mine.”

 

Harry stares at him, very slowly lowering the pulse rifle. “You want to work together?” he concludes slowly. “You want to defend this city?”

 

“At the small price of you continuing the effort to return my precognition; yes,” Reverb answers slyly. Smiling broadly, Reverb shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even come to like it.” 

 

This could be some sort of trick. It very likely is. However, what would Reverb gain from arranging such a complicated line of deceit? It would be far more productive to just keep Harry trapped again, if his intentions are purely selfish. Harry scans him up and down and he wonders.

 

“If it works like that, it’s going to be the other way around, you realize,” Harry offers, after a moment of thought. “You’d be a messenger.”

 

Harry wonders if the comment will make part of him snap, if he’ll spark some sort of anguish and see Reverb’s rage again. Instead, the only response is his shoulders mildly sinking, and something sad pressing at the corners of his eyes.

 

“And you’re the oracle?” Reverb finishes for him, smiling thinly. “It’s crossed my mind already; it’s a trade I’m comfortable with.” 

 

Which means, in other words, that Reverb is willing to accept Harry as a partner instead of Eobard Thawne. Even powerless as he is, he’s willing to take Harry as a surrogate God.

 

It really shouldn’t be touching -- and yet...

 

Harry finds himself at a loss. Is this how Reverb asks for help? Is this his version of asking for redemption, since his pride won’t allow him to admit fault outright? They just stare at each other for several seconds, and then Harry eventually relents and picks up the folder. Licking his fingertips, he begins to turn the pages, eyes skimming without even absorbing a word of it.

 

“Also, assuming I’ll be in the labs full-time,” Reverb adds, idly glancing at his nails. “I want a corner desk.”

 

“Out of the question,” Harry mutters. 

 

“Really?” Reverb drawls, head tilting to one side. “A bargain with a super villain is kosher, but a corner desk is out of the question?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Oh, I heard you; I just don’t believe you.” 

 

“Well, maybe if you had your powers, you would have seen this coming.”

 

“Wow. Okay,” Reverb says in disbelief, and in that instant, he sounds so much like Cisco that Harry has to look at him twice. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

 

“Yeah, that’s how it’s going to be,” Harry replies, the banter flowing from his mouth as easily as it always has. “Is that a problem?” 

 

When Harry peers up at him, Reverb smiles. It isn’t like before; there’s no smugness or cruelty tucked in the corners of his mouth. It’s full, genuine, and very familiar.

 

“Not at all,” Reverb replies, his eyes scanning Harry up and down with a certain allure that Cisco definitely was never bold enough to try himself. Harry isn’t entirely sure how to handle that, or the near-purr in his voice. “Quite the opposite.”

 

Oh.

 

Flustering slightly, Harry closes the folder, suddenly very concerned that he might spill its contents everywhere.

 

“Good,” Harry announces firmly. “Then, you’re hired.” 


End file.
